But there’s a million of thesetowns that are like factories,breeding hate and fear that onlythe fortunate will never meetAnd these zoomed upkids die like saints, forsomeone else’s dollar

Hopeistheformaldehydeoflife.

I pawned the remote to my misery,trading it in for liquor that was cheap;screwdrivers for my vitamin c,and a little bloodstream to my IV,helping to soothe my lunacy

I suppose I’ve come a long wayfrom: being drunk enough to drive;tired enough to replace sleep withpills; irresponsible enough withmoney to steal for it; and dumb enoughto ruin perfectly normal relationships;but smart enough to know the difference—that every lifestyle change is justa new prison

What simple andordinary lives we live,underneath the shadowsof projection screenartists

I’m the new age miner,going to work at the company’sgold mines, where they charge mefor the pick axe

I stopped loving my father at some point while I was a drunk. I began hating him after I became sober.

I’m in love with my corporate girlfriend,with the Cyclops heart

And somewhereout there,in the river ofaddicts, alcoholics,wife beaters,doormats,overeducated legalized thieves,fascist police,and bitter rivalries—someone told meit’s a good city,and I don’t knowwhat’s more frightening

America—where we hate our fathers, love our mothers, andeveryone is hung up on tryingto be a man